Saving Willowbrook (21 page)

He remained in the doorway, not saying a word, staring round the interior. She and Cameron exchanged puzzled glances and she asked, ‘Is there—'

But Julian held up one hand for silence. Walking slowly forward, he stared up at the huge beams, nodding slowly, then went across to examine a rough wooden partition, whose slats were battered and patterned by years of use. ‘Incredible,' he said softly, fingering the dark old wood.

She relaxed. This was a man who loved old buildings, not one assessing them for their monetary worth.

He continued to walk round slowly, stepping back to study various angles and eventually he ended up next to the huge double doors again. ‘Do you realize what a treasure you have here?'

‘I think so. I love the whole farm, though.'

‘This barn is definitely medieval in structure and I bet if we removed some of the later extensions and additions, we'd even find sections of wattle and daub infill in the inner walls underneath.'

She made up her mind suddenly because she trusted his enthusiasm. ‘There's a secret hiding place in here.'

He stared at her incredulously, then stared quickly round again. ‘Where?'

She moved forward, pressed the rough wooden panelling on the rear wall in the appropriate places, then stepped aside as it slid back.

‘It's in remarkably good condition.' Julian made no attempt to enter.

‘My father did a lot of repair work. He loved the place as much as I do.' She took a torch out of her pocket. ‘We can all three fit into the hidey hole. Come inside and let me show you how it works.'

It seemed natural that Cameron should put one arm loosely round her waist as they stood in the small chamber, equally natural to link her arm round him in return. Julian had eyes for nothing but the hidey hole. After a minute, she gave in to the temptation to share the old house's secrets for a second time. ‘There's more. But I must ask you not to reveal this to anyone else without my permission.'

Both men nodded, so she moved away from Cameron and closed the outer door. Then she slipped her fingers under a particularly rough piece of the wooden plank wall. Using this as a lever, she opened the inner door and revealed a narrow passage. She took the other torch kept ready there and gave it to Julian, then led the way, moving slowly forward to allow them to look around.

‘I don't think this passage was here originally, but the later additions to the buildings left this narrow slice, and some enterprising ancestor turned it into a passage. It only leads to the back of the old feed store and you have to wonder why they bothered. See.' She stepped outside at the other end and they followed.

Julian turned to examine the secret door at that end, shaking his head in amazement at the quality of the craftsmanship and watching carefully as she closed it. ‘What would an architectural television programme make of this house! I bet there are secrets even you don't know after all these years.'

She looked at him in alarm. ‘It's not for sharing with the public.'

‘I won't break my word,' he said gently. ‘But I'd guess there are other secrets here. There are, aren't there?'

‘I know of a few.' But she didn't offer to share any others with them, just continued to show them round the buildings, then brought them back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

‘Who made enquiries about listing this farm?' Julian asked.

‘My ex. He said he was told it wasn't worth it, that the buildings weren't of a good enough quality to warrant preservation.'

‘I don't know whom he consulted or how he got that impression. No one I know would have said that without looking at the place – and one visit would have shown them it was genuine and of definite heritage quality.'

She held back her anger as it was confirmed that, once again, Miles had fooled her. ‘My ex wanted me to sell it to a developer,' she said at last. ‘My refusal was one of the things that ended our marriage. I think – no, I
know
, that he lied to me many times. I should have checked what he said about the house as well, but I was worrying about Amy's problems just then.'

She bit back any further confidences about that period, when she'd struggled alone to understand her daughter's condition and learn how to deal with it. She'd met other mothers and seen how they hovered anxiously over their children. She didn't want to do that. But even if she'd tried to, Amy wouldn't have allowed it. Amy was a very special young person, and her disability was the least of what made her so special.

She knew how lucky she was to have a child like that and felt sorry for Miles, who couldn't love anyone but himself. She turned her attention back to Julian and saw him shudder.

‘It's a good thing you did refuse to sell, Ella. If there's any doubt about whether a building should be listed or not, some of those developers can knock a property down in a single day once they get their hands on it. Then they happily pay the fines and go on to do what they always intended. Willowbrook must definitely be saved and I think you should apply at once for heritage listing.' He became thoughtful as he added quietly, ‘I've heard rumours that a big developer is interested in putting something together round here at the moment. Have you been contacted?'

‘Yes. I refused to sell again.'

‘Again?'

‘There was another offer three years ago.'

‘Who is it this time?'

‘Some company called DevRaCom. Do either of you know them?'

Cameron nodded. ‘Yes.'

While he was trying to think what to tell her about DevRaCom, his companion pulled some papers out of his pocket and smoothed them carefully. Ella's attention was on the papers, so there was no need for an answer. He was glad. Now wasn't the time for such revelations.

Julian smiled at Ella. ‘I hope you don't mind, but I brought the preliminary listing forms with me, just in case. Why don't you fill them in now, while I have another look at your barn, if I may? Then I'll take them into the local council for you tomorrow and speak to someone I know there. The sooner this is started, the better.'

She didn't hesitate. ‘Very well. Good idea.'

When Julian had driven away with the completed and signed forms, Cameron decided the time had come to mention his former connection to DevRaCom. ‘I have something to tell you. Can you spare me a moment or two before you go back to work?'

‘Yes, of course.'

Just then the phone rang.

‘Excuse me.' She picked up the receiver and listened carefully.

‘Of course.' Putting the phone down, she said, ‘It was Amy's head teacher. Amy's not well. I have to bring her home.'

‘Do you want me to come with you?'

‘No. It'd look . . . strange. And it doesn't sound serious. But she's not comfortable at school and will be better off here. If you're going to be around, though . . .'

‘What can I do?'

‘Man the phone in case anyone rings up to book.'

‘Do you have a bookings diary?'

‘It's on the computer. I'll just bring it up and then if anyone rings, you can check. You don't mind doing that?'

‘Of course not.' He grinned. ‘Especially if you bribe me with a couple of your biscuits.'

‘Done.' She was already seated at the computer. She was out of the house within a further two minutes.

He stood at the window to watch her go. What a wonderful, capable woman she was! How straight her back and how energetic her stride. But she still looked tired underneath it all.

He stayed at the window, lost in thought for quite some time. He wished the phone hadn't interrupted their conversation. He couldn't move forward till he'd set things straight with Ella, and yet he was nervous of her reaction to what he had to tell her.

Surely she'd accept his assurances that he was no longer in any way associated with DevRaCom and had never intended to help take her home away?

Rose rang up her cousin to find out Miles's phone number. She intended to ask him what he'd done with the letter Oliver had given him three years ago. Bad enough to break up with the one you loved, but the anguish was magnified when you thought he'd walked away from you without a backward glance, without even a word of farewell.

She was surprised when Cameron answered the phone. He explained about Amy and Rose sighed.

‘I'll tell Ella you called. I'm sure she'll get back to you once she's settled Amy down. From the sound of it, I don't think the child's all that bad, just running a temperature and would be better for a day or two off school.'

‘Amy doesn't often catch things. I bet she'll make a dreadful patient. Tell Ella not to worry. My little problem can wait.'

It had waited years already, after all.

Oliver saw the last patient off the premises with a sigh of relief. For the past hour he'd been finding being shut inside the tiny consulting room increasingly difficult to handle. He'd kept the window open and stood near it in between patients, taking deep breaths, but it was Rose's painting that had been the most help. Several times he'd glanced at the open spaces it showed, wondering how she knew what would help him and feeling grateful to her.

The gift of the painting spoke of more than just help, it spoke of the connection that was still there between them, her understanding of his needs.

He wondered if he dare go up and see Rose. Before he'd come to a conscious decision, his feet began to lead him out to the back and up her stairs to knock on her door. ‘Could you spare a cup of coffee for a tired, thirsty man, kind lady?'

She held the door open without a word.

He hovered outside, unsure whether this was a welcome or a gesture of pity.

She rolled her eyes and yanked him in by the front of his shirt, then let out a groan of exasperation and pulled his face down. ‘I swore I'd not do this again,' she growled, then kissed him with tenderness and hunger both.

When the kiss ended, they stayed in each other's arms and it felt right, so very right.

‘I've missed you,' he murmured in her ear.

‘And I've missed you too, damn you, Oliver Paige.'

He stepped back a little, grinning at this resurgence of the sassy Rose he remembered all too well. ‘Coffee?'

‘It's only instant. I don't have time to fiddle with real coffee like Ella does.'

‘You never did. You were usually too busy painting. I admired that in you.' He wandered round the room, stopped at the big metal box and raised one eyebrow? ‘The project?'

She nodded, gave him a long, solemn look and went to unlock it with a key carried on a chain round her neck. She held up one hand in a stop gesture before she raised the lid. ‘Don't even think of touching anything.'

Her hands gentle with love, she lifted the top painting from the box, laid it on the table and lifted up the transparent paper stuck to one edge of the card to protect it.

He moved slowly forward, taking in the vivid scene which showed a female wagtail feeding her nestlings. Each feather seemed too real to be merely a painting. It felt as if you could pop a tasty morsel into the cluster of open mouths and see them gulp it down. He let out a long, low whistle. ‘This is incredible. Surely you can sell paintings of this calibre and leave the chocolate box art to others?' He flicked one finger disdainfully at the wall, where a painting of someone's pet cat was leaning, ready to be delivered.

‘I didn't do these as individual paintings but as a record of the wildlife in the area. They're going into a book. Well, they are if I can sell it.'

‘Like the art books of flora and fauna that are issued at enormous expense?'

She nodded as she covered up the painting again. ‘You can do only so much by photo. I can use several photos, though, to distil the essence of what I've seen into one painting. That gives me a composition that says more than a photo ever could. I've captured most of the small wildlife of Wiltshire now, and I've finished the main flora.' She locked the box again, slipping the key chain back under her tee shirt.

‘Only one glimpse? I'd like to see them all.'

‘I have to deliver the chocolate box art in half an hour.'

‘And I have afternoon surgery and a couple of visits. May I come back this evening and take you out for a meal?'

‘Oh, Oliver, why give ourselves so much pain? Why did you even come back to Chawton? Surely you could have recuperated elsewhere? They need A&E people everywhere.'

‘I'm unable to function in emergency medicine and I doubt I ever will be able to again.'

She gaped at him. ‘Is it that bad?'

He nodded, throat closing with the pain of his loss, unable to speak.

‘But you've built your whole working life in A and E.'

He could only nod again. The damage one drug-crazy man had done went too deep for him to discuss it easily.

‘Can you be happy as a GP?'

‘Not sure. It's more interesting than I'd thought. I'm not making any rash decisions. We'll see what happens.' He grew suddenly angry with himself for sounding so pitiful. ‘In the meantime, I'm coming back tonight, and as many other nights as you'll see me. I'm not going away this time and we
shall
find a solution . . . But Rose, talent such as that—' he indicated the box ‘—comes way before my doctoring. If your other paintings are of the same calibre, then it's
your
career that should matter more than mine.'

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

He held her gaze for a moment longer then said very softly, ‘I mean that. And I promise you, I'm not nearly as selfish as I used to be.' Then he glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘I have to go. I'll come by at seven and take you out. If you're working tonight, cancel it.'